


M.S.T.

by misura



Category: Better Off Ted
Genre: Gen, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, come on!” Linda said. “Seriously? A sexual tension meter? I mean, what, you really think anyone's going to buy that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	M.S.T.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anthropicmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropicmoose/gifts).



“Oh, come on!” Linda said. “Seriously? A sexual tension meter? I mean, what, you really think anyone's going to buy that?”

Veronica tossed back her hair. “Properly motivated, people will buy anything. Even ... Christmas trees. And Christmas balls. And Christmas - “

“Presents?” Linda tried. Veronica shook her head. “Angels?”

“I think the excellent point Veronica is making is that there's definitely going to be a market for this thing,” Lem said, proudly brandishing the meter.

“I think the excellent point Veronica is making is that she doesn't get my jokes, actually. Or yours, for that matter.”

Phil scoffed. “Are you implying we're only _pretending_ to have invented something? Why on Earth would we do that?”

“Oh, I don't know - to have a good laugh?”

“Well, this matter is very easily settled, I believe.” Veronica gestured imperiously. “Someone should summon Ted and then we can turn the meter on. Or, perhaps, not.”

“Yeah,” said Lem. “That about covers the two options here.”

“It's a _hoax_.” Linda threw up her hands. “Honestly, Veronica, sometimes you're just so - “

“Decisive? Powerful? Possessed of a strong, animal magnetism?”

Phil frantically nodded at Lem, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

“An idiot,” Linda said flatly, at the same time Lem held up the meter, displaying 317 on its screen, in bright red numbers.

“Well,” Veronica said. “That's just not very attractive at all.” The meter dropped to 156. “Or perhaps, you simply say that because you feel threatened by my good looks and intelligence. _And_ I make more money than you. And my house is bigger.”

“Betcha I got more Christmas cards this year, though. From people I've actually met.”

“E-mail counts as meeting someone, surely.”

Linda lifted her chin. “No, it doesn't.” (The meter slowly climbed back to 201.)

“Barbaric. Very well then, I admit you have me beaten in the Christmas card department, but only because you added that ridiculous limitation. Congratulations. Does that make you feel good about yourself, Linda?”

“No?” Linda frowned. “I mean, it _should_ , but - “

“But deep down inside, you realize it's an empty, hollow, meaningless victory. In fact, it's no victory at all. I feel sorry for you. Would you like some pity sex?”

Linda blinked. “From _you_?”

Veronica shrugged. “It _is_ Christmas, is it not? I thought I might try to act in the spirit of the holidays. Peace on Earth. Showing goodwill towards one's fellow woman.”

“Or man,” Phil said. “I mean technically, the term 'man' is intended to be gender neutral in that sentence.”

“Shut up, Phil.”

“I ... “ Linda said. “This is all so sudden. I mean, gosh.”

“Gosh is not 'yes',” said Veronica.

“I mean, wow.”

“Wow is not 'yes', either.”

“I mean - “ Linda got up ad headed for the door. “Okay, you know what, this is all just going way too fast. I need time to think aboutt his, all right? I mean, I can't just hop into bed with my boss. Who's also Ted's boss. I need some air.”

“Don't think about it too long,” Veronica called after her. “It's a limited time offer - now or never,”

 

“ _I_ wouldn't have needed time to think about it,” Phil said, sadly staring at the meter, which had gone back to black.

“Oh, show some pride, man,” said Lem. “I mean, pity sex on Christma Eve? That's just pitiful.”

“You're saying I can do better?”

“One word: amenoglafillamine.”

Phil shivered. “Ooh. You're right: that _is_ better than sex.”

“You really mean that?”

“Why, didn't you?”

**Author's Note:**

> M.S.T. = Measured Sexual Tension


End file.
